


Before the Storm

by SpaceKase



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Ableism, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, POV First Person, it's mentioned anyway - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 05:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16780729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceKase/pseuds/SpaceKase
Summary: The trial of the Sally Face Killer is finally here.Just what is he thinking, up there on that stand?





	Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Just what is keeping Sal Fisher going?
> 
> \---
> 
> As I'm posting this, Sally Face: Episode 4 comes out tomorrow. I've seen the trailer probably more times than is strictly healthy, and like many others, I noticed a bunch of little details here and there.
> 
> I had a lot of thoughts, and I just wanted to write SOMETHING and get it out there before The Trial is released. 
> 
> This is in first person; I tried this in my usual third person, but I thought it felt better this way. I realize a lot of people don't like that, so I apologize in advance. I can only hope this won't be too big of a deterrent.

Being on the stand isn't as frightening as I think it probably should be. So much has happened in the last few days, I've become numb; only a few things have been able to cut through the fog in my mind. 

I look over the audience. Dad's nowhere to be found; he all but disowned me after I got arrested. Told me "You are not my son; my son is not a murderer." I guess I understand; I don't know how I would have felt if I saw his face among the others. 

Some people I see were grown adults back when I was a world-weary teenager, but most of them are people I went to high school with. People I _grew up_ with. 

I can see it on all their faces; they don't have to wear prosthetics like I do. I've been told that people have a hard time reading me; it's a double-edged sword. 

Some, like Maple, are sad; they're thinking "He always seemed like such a _nice_ kid...who knew he could do something like this?"

Others, like Travis, are shaking their heads, thinking "I always _knew_ there was something off about him. Something about him never seemed _right."_

Some are angry. Neil's always been pretty easy-going, but right now the expression on his face is the hardest I've ever seen. It's not just anger on behalf of the people who are now dead or the loved ones they've been forced to leave behind.

I know. He blames _me_ for Todd's current condition. 

The rest are unreadable. Especially Ash. Funny...we used to know each other so well. Maybe not as well as Larry and I knew each other, but I still considered her one of my best friends. 

Back then, it had just been Larry, Todd, me, and Ash against the world. Now they're going to have her testify against me. And for the first time since we met, I have absolutely _no idea_ what she's thinking. 

They're all thinking that they never really knew me...Well, maybe the feeling's mutual, in some of their cases. 

I look down at my hands. I've learned not to move them too much; not one of the police officers who's handled me has been kind enough to loosen the cuffs when they get too tight. I'm sure they'll leave just a few more scars to my wrists; the only ones I didn't deliberately put there.

 _Why am I bothering?_ I wonder, not for the first time. The specter from my teenage years was right; Dr. Enon was the only one who thought I was innocent, and how he's dead. Just one more victim of the conspiracy that's taken this tiny town. Larry and Chug are both dead, too; Todd's been possessed by the red-eyed demon. Ash and Maple have never believed that Addison Apartments was haunted; Travis was never close enough to any of us to learn about any of this bullshit. 

_I'm_ the only one who knows the truth, and no one else believes me. They all think I'm crazy.

Maybe I am, though not in the ways they all think.

There's virtually no way that I'm going to get out of this; I just _know_ it. The cult is too good at what they do; they've done a damn good job covering their tracks and indicating me at every turn. I'm here right now because I know too much about them; they had to get rid of me. That's why they killed Larry. 

I’ve already had so much taken from me...I got my mom killed. My dad turned to alcohol because of me. And that was way before _any_ of the circumstances that led me here. 

How many? How many people are going to be killed or hurt because of me?

And how many people are going to suffer because of that damned cult?

 _That's why._ I close my eyes, shielding my one good one from the orange I've gotten so sick of looking at this past week, and take a deep breath. I _could_ make an insanity plea; they'd believe that. But then I'd be locked up where I couldn't do anything to help. 

Larry's spirit is still stuck there. All the other ghosts are stuck, too, in a fate that almost seems worse than what killed them all.

And I think I might be the only one who knows how to free Todd, in more way than one.

The gavel bangs, and I lift my head up to meet the staring, judging eyes of people who were my friends just days ago. 

_I have to try._


End file.
